A Stupid, Eccentric, Freaky Poem I Wrote at 3AM
by LolliliciousLolly
Summary: Don’t bother reading, if you're short of patience. This has no point. No beginning, middle, end. It’s not even funny. I just needed to write it. It’s so sad, and cheesy, it will leave you all braindead. I'm glad I got that off my chest. FOOLS!
1. 3 am

HAHAHAHAHAHA. Don't bother reading, if you are short of patience. This has no point. No beginning, middle, or end. It's not even funny. I just needed to write it. It's so sad, and cheesy, it will leave you all braindead.

But whatever.

Yeah.

Read it.

Knock yourself out.

. . . Fools.

- 8 -

You must all be thinking, "will this have a plot?"

I can honestly assure you, it simply will not.

My words are quite random, it can be admitted

To a mental asylum, I'll soon be committed.

Reading this poem will leave you dumbened for days.

It has no effect to stun or amaze.

In fact . . . everyone dies, I'm really not sure.

All I know is it will involve gore.

A poem, you'll agree, is something easy

To write, however, I'm feeling quite queasy.

You simply can't blame me, if this turns out wrong.

I don't even know if it will be short or long.

However it is about a remarkable lass.

She likes to think she's major kick ass.

Her last name is Simon, her first name is Suze,

She doesn't do drugs, smokes, gangs, or booze.

Her eyes are like emeralds, her hair is like . . . hair.

People think she's normal, but AU CONTRAIR

There's something not quite right about Miss Susannah.

I can't think of a rhyme, so I'll just say "banana."

No. The thing that sets her apart from the rest,

Is a special ability. Haven't you guessed?

She can see ghosts. She can hear the dead.

. . . Her mother wonders if she's right in the head.

Suze's tale is one both strange and wonderful.

Action, and romance, and danger are plentiful.

Her room was haunted by a ghost so hot,

That sunburn looked cold. Heat was just not.

"Hello, mi amigos, you may call me Jesse."

"I am a gentlemen. I'm never messy."

"I have a pet cat. His name is Spike."

"I have really cool spurs. I'm very manlike."

Suze and he got involved in some pleasing behaviour.

It happened just down in the eerie night graveyard.

They were kissing, and pashing, and . . . you know the story.

It was a brilliant moment of romantic glory.

But now Paul Slater, a shifter with dark intentions,

(Oh shut up, he's hot too. He must get a mention.)

Paul was a young man with a very quick wit.

He had an enormous, huge, big, large . . .

Brain.

What? What did you think I was going to say?

You sick people . . . they should lock you ALL up one day . . .

Paul was back. He was black. He was angry. Was pissed.

My my, as we speak, he's balling his fists!

He wanted Suze bad. He wanted Jess gone.

Isn't Paul just a total moron?

So one day, at the Juniperro Serra Mission,

Young Suze was sitting in class, just wishin'

That Jesse could be there. That they could make out.

Coz that's what having a boyfriend's all about.

So while Suze was lost in mesmerization,

Jesse appeared in a shower of materialization.

In front of the whole class, he rushed to her seat,

And with a juvenile audience, he swept her off her feet.

The class gasped and Suze seemed to float.

"Susannah, my heart to you I devote . . . "

"I profess my love, with words so corny."

"I cannot help it, for I am h – "

Paul, an onlooker, stopped it RIGHT THERE.

"On guard, cowboy! Of Paul Slater, beware!"

He took out his sword, because . . . shut up. He has one.

But Jesse just grinned, and whipped out his gun.

Suze gasped, and she sighed, and she swooned, and she smiled.

"Oh Jesse, you're so handsome, so cool and so wild!"

The classroom of teens could not understand

Why Paul Slater had a large sword in his hand.

Neither could the author of this weird poem.

She needs to buy some petunias, and grow 'em . . .

. . . Um, sorry, I was boring you with flora . . .

"Stay away from my querida, Slater, I adore 'er!"

Paul rolled his eyes with a movement quite slick.

Which landed him in deep, deep, deep shit.

Jesse tossed his head, his lips twitched to a smile.

He pointed his gun at Paul for a while.

A sweat broke out of Paul's poor forehead.

"Oh, Jeez," he thought, "I am so dead."

Susannah was still sighing, and acting like a freak.

Until in jumped Father Dom, wearing . . .

A beak.

"I'm a bird!" he squawked, "In the eyes of God!"

"My Lord . . . Jesse with a gun . . . how odd."

Indeed it was. The holy man was right.

Jesse with weaponry was a very weird sight.

Then, a tragic end came to our Mediator.

Father Dom leapt at Suze, and indeed, he ate 'er.

"NO!" Jesse screamed, "NO! NO! NO! NO!"

"I shall gun you down too, my cannibalistic foe!"

Paul took the opportunity to get out of the class.

Before Jesse REALLY decided to kick his ass.

Then in stumbled CeeCee, looking for fun.

Till Adam shoved her out the window, and into the sun.

"MY SKIN!" CeeCee cried, and cried, and cried,

"I'm too sensitive to sunlight! I will get fried!"

But her cries were ignored, and Adam soon gored.

And Father Dom was abhorred by the Great, Holy Lord.

Adam's corpse lay on the ground. This was a blood bath.

Kelly Prescott took a moment to barf.

It got in her hair. She screamed. No one cared.

Too bad . . . so sad . . . no one was spared.

All the lonely people. Where do they all belong.

All the lonely people. Where DOOOO they all come from.

You gotta love the Beatles lyrics.

They add class to my poem . . . pretty cool gimmick?

. . . So sorry, we'll continue? Where were we?

Oh yes . . . death, destruction. Lots of injury.

With Suze eaten, CeeCee cooked, Adam disemboweled,

Mystique Angelique finally stood up and made a vow.

"I obviously suck at writing this poetry gig."

"I think I'd better stick to Flashlight. I get a complimentary wig!"

"And plus – torturing Dani's so much more fun,"

"For Suze, and Jesse, and everyone!"

So Jesse dropped his gun, but was never arrested.

Because he was dead. Although Father Dom attested,

That Hector de Silva was a vicious gunman,

Forgetting that HE was also one, man!

But this poem ends in sympathy for Suze . . .

Who never again, will wear a pair of Jimmy Choos.

Where the hell Paul went, we'll never know.

Perhaps he's in hiding, somewhere in Moscow.

. . . I can't write poetry. Have we established that?

You can blame this whole thing on my reading "The Cat in the Hat."

I tried to rhyme. Is that SUCH A CRIME?!?!

. . . Crap. Gotta go. It's shower time.

Don't bother reviewing, I really don't blame ye'

If you all want to throw tomatoes at my failure.

This really did suck . . . so many innocents died.

Cry me a river. I care . . . why?


	2. 4 am

Again. No plot. No nothing. A Wizard of Oz theme, for some weird reason. I dunno. I'm really scared too. But whatever. I think it's nice to have a nice, random time where I can just write a whole bunch of nonsense. Hehehe.

You children honestly have no faith in,

The wonders of the digestive system.

We won't go into detail, but long story small,

Susannah was okay. And so was Paul.

In fact, all the characters hadn't actually died.

'Cept for CeeCee. SHE GOT FRIED.

Well, some people probably did actually decease,

But I'm making a sequel, so shut up, please.

In general, everyone survived the first verse.

It's actually not so much a blessing, but a curse.

May God Bless Cee's poor rested soul, this day.

She's safe from my very drunken state.

All the other characters will have to SUFFER.

Jesse's got a gun. That's actually kind of hot.

Wouldn't it be funny if Paul DID get shot?

Well, I'm bored. So lets spice up this scene . . .

Suze was in her bedroom, HER FACE PAINTED GREEN.

That's right my friends, she was not at her best.

Suze is the reincarnated . . . WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST.

"Ah ha!" Suze cackles, "I plan to seek,"

"The ruby slippers!" But at the end of that week . . .

Why should stop by at Suze's house?

But Jesse de Silva, the murderous louse . . .

"Who the hell are you?!" she cried.

"I am your ex-boyfriend," he supplied.

"Oh," Suze said. But she suffered from amnesia.

And was ever prone to the epileptic seizure.

This whole Witch thing? It was the schizophrenia talking.

Suze snapped at Jesse, "Is it ME you're stalking?"  
  
She looked down to Jesse's feet. "Are those shoes?"  
  
"These are spurs," Jesse said, "Sorry, you lose."

Suze cooed, "Not ruby slippers . . . but they'll do."  
  
Jesse cried, "NOT MY SHOES! I LOVE THEM!" Boo hoo.

Suze queried. 'My my. You have shoe fetish too?"  
  
That was when Spike came in to protect his cowboy so blue . . .

Suze screamed, "I'll get you my pretty, and you're little . . .cat . . . too . . ."  
  
She was obviously not getting paid much for this.

Spike exited the room, to take a cat-piss.

Then Paul stumbled in, looking very ragged indeed.

Suze raised her eyebrows. "You're just what I need."

Paul stopped. And stared. "Suze . . . you're GREEN."

"It's GROSS. It's DISGUSTING. You look OBSCENE."

Suze was horrified with this revelation.

"I got SWALLOWED by my PRINCIPAL," she said in indignation.

"However, as I said, I need you for my plan."

"You're my new winged monkey, you lucky man!"

Paul gulped. He swallowed hard. He was rather scared.

He always wanted to be Suze's monkey . . . but this was not fair.

She was GREEN. She had WARTS. The whole witchy enchilada.

And her black rags were NOT even . . . PRADA!

It was abominable . . . it was unheard of.

"I have an announcement to make," said Paul.

"Okay, so I don't love her after all."

"She looked hot. But love can't survive . . . this."

"I just can't see her now and be in eternal bliss."

So Paul was a coward . . . this hottie went to run . . .

And run he did . . . straight into the barrel of a gun.

Jesse's finger was on the deadly weapon's trigger.

At a time of life and death . . . all he did was . . .

Snigger.

Paul fell to his knees. "Don't shoot!" he pleaded.

"I'm sorry for calling you a cowboy, I was so conceited!"

"I take it all back! I'm sorry, for it all!"

But luck was not with our poor friend Paul.

Jesse's grinned a smile.

His eyelid flickers.

He WHIPS a PISTOL from his KNICKERS –

(HEY. This is NOT Roald Dahl!)

Jesse's fingers around the gun were gnarled.

And then . . .

He snarled.

"This is the most powerful spectral gun in the world . . . "

"So just ask yourself one question . . . "

"Do you feel lucky?"  
  
"HUH? PUNK?!"

"Not Clint Eastwood!" Paul groaned, appalled.

But with a BANG! Paul then falled.

Or fell. Oh hell, I can't rhyme this, jeez . . .

Suze burst back in the room. "No! It can't be!"

She turned her now crooked nose to Jesse.

"You've killed my winged monkey . . .and you were so MESSY!"

So then she conquered powers from her broken heart.

But only managed . . .

To fart.

. . . How odd.

A heroine's not supposed to pass flatulence.

. . . Are we in past or present tense?

Susannah cried, "You evil ghost!"

"I've killed the gay one," he dared to boast.

. . . The world stopped.

"P-P-Paul was . . . gay?!"

The rain didn't seem to stop that day . . .

For it was true, it was known well,

Paul was homosexual.

For it was tattooed on his big toe,

"I LOVE JESSE, HE'LL NEVER KNOW."  
  
Susannah's witchy state disappeared.

She warts burnt off, her facial hair sheered.

It was a nice turn of events.

Yet still today, she still resents . . .

How hot Paul was when they kissed long ago.

"He was pretending I was JESSE," she scowled in woe.

. . . Indeed he was. It's rather gross.

To be madly in love with a ghost.

But even grosser than that . . .

Is when that ghost . . . loved him back . . .


End file.
